Useless Slytherclaw

Hello! I currently don't have time because I started a new job, but I expect to have time again in December. Check back then?

Jingyi: is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Jin Ling: what’s up your ass this morning?

Sizhui: *entering the room* good morning!

Jin Ling: hmm nvm

Zizhen: *chokes on his coffee*

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, no happy ending, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Night Hunts (Módào Zǔshī), Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Song: Inquiry (Módào Zǔshī), Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Demonic Cultivation (Módào Zǔshī), True Love, Goodbyes, Tragedy, Unhappy Ending, Melancholy, i might have cried while writing this

Summary:

Jingyi dies in a night hunt, but his spirit remains bound to the earth, at least for a little while, long enough for Sizhui to play Inquiry and try to say goodbye

Jingyi realizes with fear and horror that he’s dead. Slowly, the darkness seems to fade, and he finds himself in the same clearing. The world seems faded, gray, and cold as if winter had struck. He watches as Sizhui falls to his knees beside his body, hands glowing with spiritual energy, and trying desperately to save him.

It’s too late.

Sand, almost hot enough to burn, slides under Jingyi’s feet and salty air fills his lungs as he runs.  Mr. Lan and Mr. Wei’s white summer house sits high up on the beach, safe from the tides, and Jingyi and Sizhui race the distance over the burning sands.

Jin Ling and Zizhen, who are the only other people staying at the house, approach the beach at a much more reasonable speed.

But Sizhui and Jingyi, in a time-honored fashion, run straight until they crash into the surf. Jingyi splashes into the waves first, yelping at the cold water.  Sizhui laughs at him, but it only lasts a few heartbeats because then he too crashes into the waves.

Quickly, before Sizhui can recover from the shock of the cold, Jingyi grabs him around the waist and lifts him clear off his feet, carrying him deeper into the water.

“Don’t you dare!” Sizhui cries, but his voice is half laughter.  

“Are you going to stop me?” Jingyi asks, knowing that Sizhui can’t escape.

Sizhui squirms anyway, grinning and breathless.  

Jingyi hefts him higher, giving him a moment of warning, before plunging both of them into the cerulean waves.

The cold drives the air out of his lungs, and he immediately tries to stand, but Sizhui, in retribution, shoves him back under.  Jingyi moves his arms, pushing himself out of Sizhui’s reach before popping out of the water.

He pushes his dripping hair out of his face and eyes Sizhui’s neat braid with jealousy.  Sizhui’s eyes dance, and he doesn’t have to say ‘I told you so’ because Jingyi can read it in his face.

On the beach, Zizhen and Jin Ling set up camp under a massive beach umbrella, watching Sizhui and Jingyi with amusement and incredulity respectively.

Without needing to put the agreement into words, Sizhui and Jingyi start swimming toward deeper water.  The water here is shallow for quite a ways, and they’ve been swimming here since they were children with floaties on their arms and Lan Wangji hovering over them.

They swim until only their heads are out of the water.  Sizhui has to stop before Jingyi and his soft lips turn down in a pout.  Jingyi grins and opens his arms for Sizhui.  Sizhui drifts towards him in the salt water until he wraps his arms around Jingyi’s neck.  Jingyi loops his arms around Sizhui’s waist.  He doesn’t need to hold him, but he wants to.

Together they look back towards the beach, and hundreds of memories flash before Jingyi’s eyes.  Each year they swam until they were standing on their tip toes in the water, proving who was taller.  Each year they’d swam further and further away from the beach on their first go.  

“What are you thinking about?” Sizhui asks.  “You have a distant look in your eyes.”

“Us,” Jingyi says.  Sizhui tilts his head in question.  “Or my memories of us.”

Sizhui nods in understanding, looking back towards the beach with a reminiscent expression of his own.  Then, after a moment, he turns his gaze back out to the larger ocean.

“Let's keep swimming.”

On the back hill, in the field where the rabbits now reign, Sizhui and Jingyi lay among the wildflowers, with their buckets of vegetable scraps already emptied by the rabbits.  The first breath of summer warms the air and paints the world in vivid colors and golden sunlight.

Jingyi lays stretched out on his stomach, watching the flowers dance in the wind, and Sizhui sits beside him close enough to run his hands idly over Jingyi’s hair, which spills freely over his shoulder.

They are quiet, and it is a comfortable quiet, different than the strict, hushed quiet of the Cloud Recesses.  It is as open and warm as the sunlit field and filled with the sort of comfort they can only find together.  

Sizhui hums idly, and the soft sound melds with the sounds of birds, rabbits, and wind in the trees.  It is not a song he learned, but something unintentionally devised at that exact moment.  His thoughts drift, and he props his chin on his free hand, gaze distant.

Meanwhile, Jingyi plucks one of the flowers before him and spins it with his fingers in idle contemplation.  He glances from the white blossom to Sizhui’s dreamy expression.  A dozen memories of them, together, in this field across more than a dozen years blend together in his mind, and a smile spreads across his lips.

One specific memory stays with him, and he remembers Sizhui’s small hand reaching out to drop a crown of flowers on Jingyi’s head.  He remembers the two of them with their heads pressed together as Jingyi tries and mostly fails to learn the trick of weaving the blossoms together.

Jingyi picks a second wildflower and, with a small furrow between his brow, begins trying to weave a flower crown.  It takes him a while to get it right.  His fingers have the nimbleness they’d lacked in childhood, but his memory is far from perfect.  However, eventually, he holds up a slightly wonky coronet of multicolor blossoms before rolling over and sitting up to drop it on Sizhui’s head.

Sizhui blinks when Jingyi moves as if coming back to the present from very far away.  Confusion gives way to an expression of sternness for just an instant before that too is replaced by a radiant smile.  Jingyi just smiles back; he knows that momentary solemnity.  He too has those moments, the moments when the Gusu Lan teaching is the first thing that comes to your mind before even your own thoughts.

“Do you remember?” Jingyi asks.

“Of course I do,” Sizhui says.  “You did much better this time.”

Jingyi laughs and shifts to lay with his head in Sizhui’s lap.  Sizhui’s fingers continue to trail through Jingyi’s hair, but he picks a flower with his other hand and slips it into the black silk of Jingyi’s hair.  With great care, he picks blossoms one by one, weaving them into Jingyi’s hair in a neat, crown.

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: vampire lan jingyi, Witch Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Anal Sex, Top Lán Jǐngyí, Bottom Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Making Out, Knife play but with vampire fangs, Teasing, Blood Play, Magic Summary:

The brush of soft lips against Sizhui’s neck over his thundering pulse is followed by the almost imperceptible scrape of razor-sharp canines, and Sizhui tilts his head back, baring his neck further.  Jingyi smiles, and Sizhui feels the brush of his lips and the curve of them, cold against his heated skin.  Adrenaline spills through Sizhui’s body at the danger, sharpening the desire that had sent them tumbling into the bed, but his heart is calm.  Even as fangs tease along the delicate skin of his throat and his instincts cry out, his heart is calm.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Selkies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Love Confessions, Difficult Decisions, Selkie Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Human Lán Jǐngyí

Summary:

At age sixteen, Lan Jingyi chanced across a selkie boy on the beach, and they fell in love. Seven years later, he returns to the beach, hoping for a chance to see Sizhui again. They reunite, but Sizhui can only stay one day, unless Jingyi steals his sealskin and hides it. Sizhui has to choose, Jingyi or the sea.

The back hills are quiet except for the soft sound of the wind through the trees as Jingyi and Sizhui walk side by side out to feed the rabbits.  Jingyi is unusually silent as they walk.  This moment is at once infinitely familiar and wildly new.   It feels odd for them to slip back into life as if nothing had changed, when everything had changed. It’s not that Wei Wuxian is back or that Sizhui is a Wen or that he’d been away from Gusu for three months.  It’s not even that he’s in love with Sizhui because he now knows he’s been in love with Sizhui for years.  It’s that he now knows that he’s in love with Sizhui.

Sizhui glances at Jingyi as they feed the rabbits, a small furrow appearing on his brow.  As the bunnies pile onto the food, he finally speaks.

“Jingyi, are—” he starts.

“I’m in love with you,” Jingyi blurts out.

“—you all ri—“ Sizhui cuts himself off at Jingyi’s words.

Jingyi’s eyes go a little wide, and he looks away from Sizhui with pink appearing on his cheeks.

“I mean,” he says, obviously casting around for something to say.

“Jingyi,” Sizhui says softly.

“I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Jingyi.”

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way.”

“Jingyi!" Sizhui steps closer to Jingyi.

“I just wanted to say it.”

 Realizing that Jingyi is too busy panicking to listen to what he has to say, Sizhui takes a short step forward and puts his hand on Jingyi’s cheek.  Jingyi immediately goes silent, his eyes meeting Sizhui’s.

 Sizhui closes the distance between them, and their lips brush together for just a moment.  Sizhui can feel Jingyi’s eyelashes flutter and the way his breath hitches.

 “You didn’t let me answer you,” Sizhui says, pulling back.  “I love you too.” 

Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán/Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn Characters: Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn, Lán Jǐngyí, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Additional Tags: Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Hurt No Comfort, What if Jin Ling DIDNT get his head out of his ass, Toxic Boyfriend Jīn Líng | Jīn Rúlán, Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships Summary:

A universe where Jin Ling doesn't outgrow his spoiled brat with anger issues act. Zizhen loves him, but his "I can fix him" attitude can only stretch so far. Eventually, Zizhen has to walk away.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lán Jǐngyí/Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī Characters: Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Ōuyáng Zǐzhēn, Lánlíng Jīn Disciple(s) (Módào Zǔshī), Bālìng Ōuyáng Disciple(s) (Módào Zǔshī), Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Lán Jǐngyí Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Demonic Cultivation (Módào Zǔshī), Demonic Cultivator Lán Jǐngyí, Protective Lán Jǐngyí, Don't underestimate Ouyang Zizhen, Lan Sizhui heritage reveal Summary:

The truth of Sizhui's Wen heritage is revealed, and a group of cultivators from Lanling Jin, Baling Ouyang, and Pingyang Yao captures Sizhui and Jingyi. Jingyi refuses to allow Sizhui to meet the same fate the rest of his family, and with Zizhen's help, he gets Sizhui out, and Sizhui and Jingyi run for their lives. In desperation, Jingyi turns to demonic cultivation and, in doing so, adds his own name to the death warrant.

Music so loud that the bass vibrates through Sizhui’s whole body fills the nightclub.  He leans against the edge of the bar, sipping on something that tastes like raspberry lemonade that Jingyi had purchased but not finished. His gaze is fixed on the dance floor, on one figure dancing under the shifting lights.

Jingyi’s hair is down, shifting with the rainbow color of the lights as Jingyi dances, and Sizhui itches to bury his hands in it, but he stays where he is.  Jingyi moves to the music, often with his eyes closed, apparently oblivious to the attention on him.  Sizhui isn’t the only one watching.  Dressed in dark, fitted, and torn jeans, and a mesh tank top that accentuates more than it hides his muscled chest, Jingyi draws attention.  There is no small part of Sizhui, a part that he rarely indulges, that feels a sort of possessive pride at how good his partner looks and at the attention it garners.

Jingyi doesn’t dance alone for long.  A tall blonde man approaches him first, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear even as the pair of them dance close enough to touch.  There’s no hope of Sizhui hearing what’s being said, but he doesn’t need to; he can guess.  Whatever Jingyi’s response, the man seems to sense his disinterest and quickly moves on.  But he’s only the first of the night, and certainly not the last.

Each time a man’s hand settles on Jingyi’s body Sizhui feels the acid hook of jealousy and a darkening of that possessive pride.  He knows that he could walk over and dance with Jingyi himself at any minute, but then the game would be over.

Sizhui finishes one drink and then another, and the crowd on the dance floor gets drunker and closer.  A man with dark hair that might be blue or might be black, leans into Jingyi, sliding a hand up the muscles of Jingyi’s arm in a way that makes Sizhui’s hand tighten on his glass until the ice clinks, the sound entirely lost under the thunder of the music.

Whatever the man says makes Jingyi chuckle, and Sizhui’s gaze darkens as Jingyi leans in to hear what the man has to say.  The shirtless man moves closer to Jingyi, so their bodies are almost touching as he slides his hand across the hard line of Jingyi’s shoulder.  In the shifting lights, Sizhui catches a hint of a smug smile on the man’s face.

Sizhui’s now empty glass is on the table, and he’s several steps towards the dancefloor before he makes the conscious decision to move.  Jingyi doesn’t even glance at him, but the other man does.  Sizhui cuts through the crowd, barely bothering to move his body to the rhythm of the music, instead of focusing on reaching Jingyi and removing the other man’s hands.

The man’s expression turns from confident to confused when it’s obvious that Sizhui is heading for them.  Jingyi’s head shifts only a fraction towards Sizhui, just enough for Sizhui to catch the lowering of his lashes and the hint of a smirk on his face.  

Sizhui doesn’t say anything; the words would only be lost to the music. Instead, he puts his hand on Jingyi’s hip, turning him and dragging him closer.  Jingyi turns into him, moving away from the unknown man of his own accord.  Sizhui drags Jingyi’s lips down to his, not caring that he’s shorter, and kisses him until the smirk vanishes from his face and he’s breathless.

Hardly anyone looks at them, except for the man who’d been dancing with Jingyi, who takes a confused step backward.

Sizhui’s hand slips into Jingyi’s back pocket as he drags him away from the dancefloor.  There’s a teasing smile on Jingyi’s lips as he follows Sizhui as if he’d won the game, but the game is far from over, and neither of them can lose.

They don’t stop moving until they are in one of the shadowy back booths, and Sizhui can fall back against the fake leather, drawing Jingyi down with him, onto his lap. Sizhui lets go of that tight hold on the possessive part of him, and Jingyi, sensing the change in his grip, shivers in anticipation.

Sizhui tangles his fingers in the silky length of Jingyi’s hair, drawing him down into a rough kiss.  Jingyi straddles Sizhui’s thighs, and Sizhui’s hand slides down to grip his ass.  Their tongues tangle together, and Sizhui forgets about everything but the two of them as Jingyi melts against him, willingly surrendering himself to Sizhui’s desires.

Their position is shadowed but certainly not strictly private, and Sizhui lets himself indulge the possessive, proud part of him, as he slides his hands over the lines of Jingyi’s body.  Soon, he wants more than what he’s willing to do in public.

“Home?” he says, and it’s barely the shape of a question.

“Yes,” Jingyi says with that devil-may-care smirk that has Sizhui dragging him out of the club faster than any words ever could.

“It’s so early,” Jingyi whines.  “No one should have to be awake this early.  It’s unethical.”

“It’s four am, Jingyi,” Sizhui says with faint amusement.  “We’d be up in an hour anyway.”

“No one should have to be awake at five am either,” Jingyi says stubbornly.  

“Good luck with that one.”

Jingyi just huffs and crosses his arms.  He doesn’t speak as they walk through the silence of the Cloud Recesses to the kitchens.  Unlike Jingyi, Sizhui doesn’t mind mornings.  He appreciates the deep quiet before anyone wakes, the cool morning breeze, and the soft light.  The only sounds are the distant, melodious twittering of birds.

They reach the kitchens about one minute before their shift in the kitchens is scheduled to begin, and find the kitchen already is already a bustle of motion and noise even though it’s not at full capacity yet.

Sizhui glances around as they step into the kitchen.  The elderly woman who runs the Gusu Lan kitchens with an iron fist is in the middle of delegating the day’s duties. Most of the people in the kitchen are servants or female disciples and cultivators, but there are a few other male cultivators who are also on kitchen duty.

“There you are,” the head cook says, spotting them almost immediately.  She studies them for a moment.  “I don’t want you,” she gestures at Jingyi, “anywhere near my stoves.  So you’ll be chopping vegetables.  You can chop vegetables, right?”  She eyes their swords.

Slightly abashed, Jingyi looks down at his feet as he nods his agreement.

“Good,” she says, pointing them towards baskets of vegetables that are sitting at the end of a heavily worn and scarred wooden table.  “Make sure the pieces are nice and even!”

Together, Sizhui and Jingyi make their way to the table, not paying any attention to the other people in the kitchen even though several of the young female cultivators take notice of them.

“I’ll peel and you chop?” Sizhui suggests.

“Sure,” Jingyi says.  

Sizhui takes up a kitchen knife, sharpened to a razor's edge, and starts with the bucket of carrots closest to him.  He slides the peels into a discard basket and slides the carrot to Jingyi.

“How are you supposed to make even pieces out of something that's not evenly shaped?” Jingyi mutters under his breath, but his hands move deftly, easily slicing the carrots into chunks of consistent thickness.

“Just do your best,” Sizhui suggests.

They work in silence for a while with nothing but the background noise of the kitchen to distract them, but even when he’s tired, Jingyi can only be quiet for so long, and eventually, they slip into a quiet conversation.

The kitchen isn’t loud exactly; nowhere in the Cloud Recesses is ever truly loud, but it’s enough for their conversation to feel mostly private.

Their conversation meanders over the course of the next hour and a half, as conversations do.  They talk about their lessons, their plans to meet with other Gusu Lan junior disciples in Caiyi town this weekend, and the upcoming night hunt all the way to Mo Manor.  Sizhui feels anxiety swirl up as he thinks of the night hunt.  It’s his first time leading a night hunt unsupervised, after all.  Jingyi, of course, reassures him, but it’s not his words that ease Sizhui’s anxiety, rather it’s his absolutely unshakable faith that Sizhui will not fail.

When they finally leave the kitchen with a steaming bowl of dumplings each, Sizhui has a smile on his face.  They huddle together to eat the food that they, technically, helped prepare, and Sizhui finds himself looking at Jingyi again and again.  He doesn’t have words for the feelings stirring in his chest just then, feelings that go well beyond gratitude or comfort or even friendship.  But he knows that as long as Jingyi is with him, he can do anything.

Jingyi rushes down the side alley towards the cafe where Zizhen works.  His breath turns white in the cold air around him, and even though he’s running, he pulls his leather jacket closer for warmth.  He’s late for class, but he already sent Zizhen his order, and he desperately needs the caffeine.  He barrels down the stairs to the underground entrance, his bag slamming into his back with every step.  The old-fashioned bell over the door rings as he bursts into the cafe.  He weaves around mismatched tables to get to the counter.

“Running behind?” Zizhen asks with a smirk as he pulls up an extra-large coffee.

Jingyi doesn’t bother to answer.

“Do you still have the vegan biscotti? I need food, and please tell me there’s actual caffeine in that drink,” he says as he pulls his wallet out.

“Enough caffeine to stop your heart.  Don’t blame me if this gives you tachycardia,” Zizhen says, handing over the coffee and a chocolate and orange biscotti.

“Perfect,” Jingyi says, handing over the money.

“Excuse me?” A soft male voice sounds from over Jingyi’s shoulder, and both Zizhen and Jingyi turn to look.

A boy in an oversized sky blue sweater and wearing glasses that do nothing to hide the kindness in his brown eyes is standing there.  He’s beautiful, and Jingyi is so stunned that he nearly drops his wallet and has to catch it with his other hand.  Zizhen snorts, and the boy’s smile widens.

“You dropped your phone,” he says, holding Jingyi’s phone out between them.

“Thank you!”   As he reaches for his phone, he scrambles for something to say, “can I buy you a coffee?... To say thanks?”

Part of Jingyi is wondering what the actual fuck he’s doing when he’s already late for class and he doesn’t even know if this man is gay, but the other, larger, part of him can’t think about anything but the boy’s smile.

“Sure,” the boy says.  

Jingyi steps aside and gestures for him to order.

“Don’t you have class?” Zizhen asks Jingyi.

“I’ll send Dr. Stein an email, tell him I died and went to heaven or something.”

Zizhen snorts, and the boy chuckles at Jingyi’s stupid joke, a good sign as far as Jingyi is concerned.

“What can I get you?” Zizhen asks him.

“Large cinnamon spice tea latte, please?” 

“Coming right up,” Zizhen punches the order into the system and then turns around to make the drink.

“I’m Jingyi.  Lan Jingyi.  I didn’t get your name?”

“Sizhui,” the boy says.  “... Lan Sizhui.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he says with a warm smile.

Zizhen sets Sizhui’s latte on the counter and looks at Jingyi, who is too busy looking at Sizhui to notice.

“Don’t you have a quiz in class today?” Zizhen asks.  “That’s why you preordered the death coffee in the first place.”

Jingyi grimaces.  He does have a quiz, but the class has lots of quizzes.  He can probably afford to miss one, but he’ll hate himself if he never sees Sizhui again because he ran off.

The smile on Sizhui’s face shifts towards gentle amusement as he turns his cup in his hands.

“It sounds like you need to go to class.”

Jingyi looks at the ground a little crestfallen.  It had seemed like the boy was into him too, but apparently not.

“I’ll take a rain check on the coffee date though,” Sizhui says, and Jingyi’s gaze darts to his face, a hopeful smile appearing on his lips.

“Absolutely,” Jingyi says, regaining his energy.  “A coffee or lunch or whatever.  Just let me know.”

Sizhui’s warm eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Zizhen has my number,” Jingyi tells Sizhui and points at Zizhen.  “He’ll give it to you.”

With that, he heads out, a grin on his face that certainly had not been there when he entered the door.  He throws open the door but stops for just an instant, only the time it takes to call out, “So glad to meet you!” and then takes the stairs two at a time.

Back in the cafe, Sizhui takes a sip of his latte and turns to look at Zizhen.

“Are you going to tell him that you pickpocketed his phone so you could talk to him?” Zizhen asks as he pulls out his own phone to get Jingyi’s number.

“Eventually.”